


My Kind of Crazy

by ShaneColton



Series: Emerson [1]
Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: F/M, Forced Nudity, Imprisonment, Kissing, M/M, Negan wants something he can't have, Nothing too explicit, Rape/Non-con Elements, Sanctuary, Sensory Deprivation, Violence, Violent Death, bisexual negan, mentions of sex and sexual acts, mentions of weight loss and starving, the art of breaking somone, the saviors - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-17
Updated: 2017-01-08
Packaged: 2018-09-09 05:54:06
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 10
Words: 14,193
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8878492
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShaneColton/pseuds/ShaneColton
Summary: Emerson has done just fine on her own for the last six years of the apocalypse, and she prefers to keep it that. Unfortunately for her, all good things seem to come to an end. After being surprised by two rough looking men who threatened her, Emerson fights back and kills them both. And now, she had Negan to deal with. Negan has rules and he doesn't like it when they're broken. And someone killing two of his men? He can't let that go. When the culprit, Emerson, is dropped at his feet, he finds her to be much more of a challenge than he had anticipated. Her attitude, snark, and general lack of respect for him is something he is determined to change.Can Negan break her, bend her to his will? Or will she fight back until he has no choice but to kill her?





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Unlike the graphic novels, I do not use the word 'fuck' for Negan in every sentence. I find it to be less intimidating that way. 
> 
> Thanks for giving this a read! I enjoy feedback and constructive criticism, so feel free to comment and tell me what you think! Hope you enjoy the first chapter of my first Walking Dead fanfiction! 
> 
> <3, Shane.

The brush under her feet crunched loudly as the woman raced through the trees, but this was life or death and she wasn't interested in dying today. The kodachi that she carried was in her hand, ready to swipe at any walkers that dared to get in her way. A gunshot rang out behind her and instinct had her ducking and weaving through some trees, her shoulder catching painfully as she sideswiped one in her haste. At this point, her sense of direction was as confused as she was, so the woman merely ran blindly.

It was working for her until the trees thinned and her feet hit tarmac. The black truck waiting there had her screeching to a halt, nearly tripping over her shoes as she fought to regain her balance. Her sword remained in her hand, and for a moment, she thought about heading back into the trees. One look at the men, however, and their guns were telling her that it wasn't a smart idea and she should probably reconsider.

A whistle drug her attention from the four different barrels she was staring down, and even from the crunch of approaching men from behind her. A man, tall, dark, and ruggedly handsome, rounded the front bumper, a bat resting comfortably against his broad shoulder. Upon closer examination, she realized it was wrapped in some nasty looking barbed wire. So he was either an arrogant prick, or a lunatic, possible both.

He didn't approach her, merely hefted the bat and pointed it at her. “Drop the fuckin’ sword.”

Her first response was to tighten her grip, defiant eyes locking on his own, where the amusement was quickly disappearing. “No.”

“No? Did you just say _no_ to _me_?” His eyes were dark now and she could see his barely contained rage trembling in the depths of them, the look enough to make her lower the sword ever so slightly. “You won't like what happens if you make me repeat myself.”

Knowing that she really had no choice, she lowered the sword, laid it down slowly, and raised her hands. The blade was kicked away from her, the same foot then dropping her onto her knees. She was patted down from behind, but she paid no mind to it, choosing to focus instead on the man in front her who was once again grinning.

“Now then, little miss runner… How ‘bout you tell me your name.” He'd moved closer now, satisfied that she was weaponless and kneeling before him, even if it was unwillingly.

“Emerson.” She told him, fingers flexing next to her thighs as he expertly twirled the bat.

“ _Emerson_.” He repeatedly slowly in that deep, rough voice of his. “I'm Negan.”

_Badass with a baseball bat_ , Emerson added in her head. Though she still had to work out whether or not he was as crazy as he seemed. “I'd say it's a pleasure, but it's clearly not.”

Negan chuckled at this, clearly amused at her lack of respect. Emerson was definitely going to be a challenge. His bat swung back in her direction and he pressed it up under her chin, forcing her gaze up. The barbs pulled roughly at her skin and she felt the warm trickle of blood slide down the skin of her throat.

“You killed several of my men, _Emerson_. Now, I have rules, and those rules say that I just can't let somethin’ like that slide. The _rules_ say you have to be punished.”

It was already obvious to her that Negan got off on this. Having someone kneeling and at his mercy excited him in some way, and Emerson wasn't about to give him the satisfaction of trembling in fear or begging for his forgiveness. “Who died and made _you_ King?”

Negan flicked his wrist, the barbs dragging deeper and forcing her head back at an uncomfortable angle. “Say it again.” Emerson stayed silent this time, and a slow smirk spread over his lips. “That's what I thought.”

Emerson clenched her jaw as the bat scraped away from her chin, but she made no move to clean the many rivulets of blood from her throat. “So what exactly do your _rules_ have in mind for me?” Being on her knees wasn’t something she was enjoying, so Emerson started to stand, only to have the bat come down on her shoulder hard enough to elicit a groan, but not with enough force to do much damage.

“Whatever I tell ‘em to.” Negan growled, moving away to swing his bat around. “Load her up, boys.”

Rough hands hauled her to her feet and she was thrown into the bed of the truck with the several men that had ridden back there to begin with. Emerson wasn’t used of such treatment, but she went with it, knowing it could be much worse than it already was. She sat quietly, taking in each man’s appearance and the weapon that they carried. Emerson had an excellent memory, and these things could be more than helpful later.

She missed nothing on the ride back, memorizing the route for when she would attempt her escape, something she was already planning.

Until they pulled into the place that Negan and his men called home.

Walkers on stakes, what looked like prisoners keeping them in check, the gates. It was all very well thought out from what Emerson could tell. They parked and she was pulled from the truck, once again coming face to face with Negan.

“Let’s go have a chat.” He said with a grin, dropping an arm over her shoulders and steering her in the direction of some buildings.

Emerson kept her body relaxed, but as soon as they rounded a corner, her elbow slammed into his side, directly over a rib. Negan had not been expecting the action and he stumbled a bit, allowing Emerson a chance to grab for the bat. But he was faster, and a hell of a lot stronger, and her forehead made a resounding smack as it hit the wall under his forceful push.

And now Negan was in her space, body and face inches from her back, which in any other world but this one she would have enjoyed. A leather gloved hand had a tight grip of her wrist, and her arm was being painfully restrained behind her, any struggle only making it worse.

“You don’t seem to understand your situation here. _I’m_ in charge. You _belong_ to me. I _own_ you.” The words were growled roughly into her ear and Emerson’s blood ran cold at the rage laced in them. She had pissed him off and was now making this situation harder for herself. “You need to learn some fucking _respect_ , and it seems that I’m going to have to teach it to you.”

Negan stepped back but she didn’t move, and the tip of his bat pressed into her lower back. He rubbed it against the knob of her spin, and she heard a breathy chuckle. “Know what happens if Lucille were to hit you right about here?” The bat, whom he had apparently named, dug harder into her exposed skin and she stayed silent. “Then let me tell you. This bone would shatter, and those gorgeous legs of yours would cease to work. I think that’d be a damned shame.”

“S-sorry.” Emerson managed, having finally gotten it into her head that he was as dangerous as he appeared.

“ _What_ was that? You apologzin’? Better speak up and try again, sweetheart.”

“Sorry.” Emerson tried again, louder this time. “Won’t happen again.”

“You’re damn right it won’t. That shit doesn’t fly with me. Am I making myself clear?” Emerson nodded again and he grabbed her arm, spinning her around roughly and shoving her ahead of him. “Now… About that chat. Seems you’ve gone and added to your list of sins.”

His room, which is where they ended up, was very nice. Since the world had been overrun by zombies, Emerson had rarely stayed in anywhere that looked like this place. It was spacious, clean, and had a lot of black. Black bedcovers, black couches. It did fit what Emerson knew of Negan, though, so it wasn’t all that surprising. Shoving her down on the couch, he took the other one, Lucille now propped up beside it.

“I usually do things one of three ways when it comes to people who appear promising. And you, _Emerson_ , I think you look a bit promising. So here’s the deal. One, I beat the fucking hell out of you, and then let you work as a dead woman on the spikes. Two, you work for points, but lemme tell you, sweetheart. You’re gonna wish I’d killed you. Or three, you submit to me and live like a fucking queen.”

Emerson just stared at him. Part of her didn’t appreciate his vulgarity, but the other part seemed to think it made him that much more intimidating. “Is there a fourth choice?”

“What do you think?”

Leaning back against the couch, Emerson did her best to ignore the nagging shoulder pain from her earlier run-ins with both the tree and _Lucille._ She thought carefully about her next words, because it was simply her personality to have a sarcastic comeback, something Negan didn’t seem to appreciate from her. “What exactly is your definition of submit?”

“You do what I say when I say it. You follow the rules. Work for me. Or, since you’re smokin’ hot, you could join the other five as one of my wives.” A slow grin took over his face and it was both charming and disconcerting.

“ _Wives? Five. Wives?”_ Emerson had not been expecting that fact to come out of his mouth. He didn't seem like a one woman man in any sense of the term, but five _wives_?

“Mhm. And you'd make a _damn_ fine number six.”

“No. I'm more into monogamy, but thanks.”

Negan leaned forward, placing his elbows on his knees. “Then that leaves option one, or option two.”

Emerson didn't want to be here. She'd done just fine on her own and she was well aware that staying here was going to feel like suffocating. Slowly standing, she looked down at him. “Then I choose option number one.”

Negan seemed genuinely surprised at her pick and he clicked his tongue, lazily standing and giving her his signature smirk. “You just _can’t_ seem to get enough of my girl, huh?” Stepping right up to her, his full height towering over her own frame, Negan slid a finger under her chin and Emerson hissed at his touch against the open wounds. “But if you think you’re getting out of this so easily, you’re gonna be damn disappointed.”

Emerson wanted to strike him, push back against his unrelenting attitude, but her head was pounding now from the blow she’d taken, and his proximity was making her dizzy. “Fuck you.” She muttered, taking a step back.

“Maybe later, sweetheart.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is from Negan's point of view, something I plan to do with every other chapter.
> 
> Thanks for the kudos', darlings!
> 
> <3, Shane.

After Emerson had finally blacked out, Negan watched as she was taken from the room to be checked out by his doctor. The girl had a mouth on her, and Negan found it amusing, albeit frustrating. She didn't appear very afraid of him, something that he knew he was going to have to change. What she was, however, was fucking calculating. Saying just enough to get him riled up, and then backing down before she pushed him over the edge.

It wasn't a surprise to him that Emerson had been on her own, probably for a while now, because she just seemed to be that tough. From what he'd seen of the bodies, she'd easily taken out two of his best guys, the sword slicing them up with clean, accurate precision. Picking up the weapon from his bed, Negan pulled it free of the sheath and grinned. It was fucking sharp and in good shape. The girl really knew what she was doing.

While part of him hope she just accepted the offer to be his wife, the other _larger_ part hoped she didn't. Negan enjoyed a challenge and there were too little of those lately, most people dropping to their knees for the leader of the Saviors. His progress with Daryl was going well, and he had no doubts in his mind as to whether he could break Emerson or not.

Getting word that Emerson had been checked out, he headed down the stairs, heavy boots thudding as he did so. Making his way to the small medical office, he looked the sleeping Emerson over. “What's the word, doc?”

Carter stood up and pointed at the bruising knot that had formed at her hairline from her recent _interaction_ with the wall. “She has a mild concussion, sir. I also cleaned the wounds under her chin and on her shoulder, which is also sprained.”

Negan knew he'd hit her with Lucille, but it wasn't enough to sprain her shoulder. His conclusion was that he'd simply exacerbated a previous injury. “Mm. I'm taking her with me.” Without even waiting for Carter to respond, Negan scooped up her limp form and carried her out, kicking the door shut behind him.

Emerson’s body was lean and muscled, and he could feel the warmth of her seeping through the thin fabric of his grey t-shirt. Though he didn't approve of rape, he was still a man and the thought of her body pressed to his stirred a little excitement inside of him. But no, such things could wait until later when she finally kneeled before him, willing to submit.

Carrying her in to the same place they kept Daryl, he opened the room next to it, setting her inside. Negan made quick work of her clothes, leaving her naked and crumpled in the corner. The first step to breaking someone was to rid them of everything they saw as their own, and since she only had the clothes on her back, those had to be taken care of. With a last glance her way, he shut and locked the door, leaving her in the pitch black of her tiny prison.

Moving to the stereo, he grabbed a CD and popped it in. The first track that started playing was _Bohemian Rhapsody_ by Queen, and he cranked it up, making sure the repeat button had been pressed. Step number two was sensory deprivation. The small space, the darkness, the unrelenting noise from the music, it usually worked quickly on most people, or drove them out of their minds. Emerson needed teaching, that was for damn sure. But he wanted her broken, not useless.

Making his way back down the hall and out in the sunshine, he tugged Dwight aside and gave him a firm look. “No one fuckin’ touches her, understood? Think of Emerson as my own little pet project.”

Dwight gave a nod of head at the order, straightening his shoulders a bit. “Yes, sir. I'll make sure everyone knows.”

Negan patted the man's scarred face a bit too roughly and slipped him a grin. Dwight was a pathetic excuse for a man, but he'd fallen in line quickly after his run in with the iron, and Negan needed the men. Whatever his smokin’ hot wife Sherry had seen in Dwight, Negan couldn't understand.

Walking away and back into his own space, Negan sat down with a bottle of alcohol and a rag, Lucille laid out on his lap. As he cleaned Emerson’s blood from the barbs, his mind drifted to his late wife. He’d never been a good guy, not even close, but at one point he did have a little decency. But in this world, all of that had been forced to disappear and Negan had become the hard shell of a man that he’d needed to be. And he’d had a hell of a good time doing it. Having people kneel in his presence and do whatever he asked of them, it was a fucking rush, one he didn’t plan to end anytime in the near future.

And Emerson? Oh, he was going to win that battle. He was Negan, and Negan didn’t lose.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wow! 75 hits already! I'm stunned! Thank you to everyone who is joining me on this fun ride. I'm having a blast writing this and will update as often as I can. 
> 
> Please leave comments and let me what you think!
> 
> <3, Shane

Emerson’s eyes slowly cracked open, though there was no light to speak of, and she shifted on the cold cement floor, every part of her aching. When the fuzziness had faded from her mind, she came to the stark realization that she was naked. Even her socks were gone and Emerson hugged her knees to her chest. Had she been raped? Abused? Quickly taking stock of her injuries, she realized that the only thing _not_ hurting was proof that she hadn’t been touched.

_A check for the plus column…_

Her head was still pounding, the loud music making her ears ring and the pain that much worse. It was disorienting to feel so closed off in the darkness and yet to have the music so loud and so close. Putting her hands out, Emerson began to feel around for walls, needing to get a sense of the size of the space she was trapped in. Standing to her feet, it only took a minute or two to get the general idea of where she was.

The room was very small, and when she stretched out, both hands barely brushed the walls. It wasn’t a very deep room either, about the same measurements as the width. The door was locked, and no matter how much she wiggled and yanked on the knob, it didn’t open. Screaming was pointless because Emerson knew that no one would even hear her. Hell, she could barely hear her own thoughts. So sinking back into the corner, away from the door, Emerson hugged her knees and just sat, trying to ignore the sounds of Queen and the song she’d once liked.

She sat there with no concept of time or how long she’d been unconscious, and when the music stopped abruptly, Emerson could have sworn it was just a dream. But then the door opened and the light blazed in, illuminating her naked figure huddled in the corner. She slapped her hands over her eyes, needing time to adjust to the brightness that lay on the other side of the door.

When she could finally open her eyes, they landed on the tall, intimidating form of Negan. He stood in the doorway, blocking some of the light, and he was smirking down at her in amusement. “Miss me?” Negan asked, crossing his arms over his chest, the jacket having disappeared.

Emerson’s eyes drifted over his arms, the muscles in them rippling as he folded the limbs over his broad chest. He wasn’t overly muscular like some guys she’d seen, but enough that you could tell he was in great shape. Swinging a baseball as he seemed to do had helped make his shoulders and arms firm, and his skin was tan from spending days outside. It struck her that he was her kind of guy, in more ways than one, and that in another time and place she wouldn’t have thought twice about being with him.

“No.” Emerson said, not bothering to stand. She _hated_ that he was towering over her, so large and in charge, and the thought of standing to mirror his stance crossed her mind. If he’d been the one that had undressed her, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t seen before. But Emerson was in no mood to have those gorgeous eyes of his trailing over her like she was a piece of meat. “Where are my clothes?”

“Nice and safe in my dresser.”

Emerson’s eyebrow hitched up at his statement, and words tumbled from her lips before she had a chance to think about them. “What, are you some kind of pervert?”

Negan’s jaw twitched in irritation at this, and Emerson couldn’t have missed the annoyance that flashed in his darkening eyes if she’d tried. He stepped forward, a hand burying in her black hair. Yanking her to her feet, Negan tossed her from the room, and she landed hard, jarring her shoulder.

“I don’t mind a little lip from you, sweetheart, but you like to push me a little too fuckin’ much.”

Emerson pushed up to a sitting position, all thoughts of trying to cover herself now abandoned. Any pressure on her arm sent pain shooting through her shoulder and down her back, but she made no sound of discomfort. Negan was pointing now, and she followed the line of his arm to where the tip of his finger was aimed at some grey clothing.

“I was going to give you something to cover that sexy body of yours, but now I don’t think I will. I think you’re going to have to fucking earn that privilege now.” Negan said, leaning back against the wall and leveling his gaze onto her face. “All that bruising is running your pretty face. I hate when you make me do such things.”

“Why?” Negan didn’t give her the impression that he hated hurting anyone, but the man was full of surprises.

“I don’t take pleasure from hurting women.” So, the pervert comment had been way off, and that’s why he had taken such offense, she thought. “But I will not tolerate such _barefaced_ disrespect, even from someone like you. What kind of fucking leader would that make me?”

Emerson wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to that, so she didn’t answer. Pushing to her feet, she placed her back against the opposite wall and glanced down at herself. Once upon a time she had been a well-kept woman, but that wasn’t exactly visible anymore. Razors didn’t seem to last long, and her body hadn’t seen one in more than a little while. It had also been about a week since she’d had a good wash, and Emerson wrinkled her nose.

Negan cleared his throat, pulling her attention away from her own body and back to his face. “Eyes up here, sweetheart. We’re having a conversation.” He too looked her over, but his gaze was assessing instead of heated. “Seems like you could use a fucking shower. Sound like something you would enjoy?”

Emerson gave him a nod. “Yes. But I have a feeling there’s a catch.” Negan was the type of guy that didn’t give unless he gained something in return.

“Damn, you guessed it.” Negan chuckled and grinned widely, pushing away from the wall. “Say I let you take your shower. What kinda payment do you think sounds fair for that?”

She didn’t know. Trading was out of the question because she had nothing to trade but her morals, and there was no way she was fucking Negan. “I don’t know. You took all my stuff.”

“Because it’s _my_ stuff now. Just like you’re mine.” His statement made her jaw clench. Belonging to someone wasn’t in her plans, and she sure as shit didn’t belong to Negan. “Tell you what, Emerson. I’m going to let you take that shower and then you’re going to watch your mouth around me. If you fail to do so, well fuck. Then we’ll have to play a little game of naked and afraid.”

Emerson had no clue what that game would include, and she didn’t plan to find out. “Fine.”

His eyes narrowed and he cocked his head. “I _do_ believe you better try sayin’ that again.”

“Yes.” When he continued to stare at her, she swallowed back some of her pride and managed to say, “Yes, _sir,”_ though gritted teeth.

Negan smiled happily and nodded at her. “See? Now that wasn’t so fucking hard, huh sweetheart?” With another laugh he tossed her a blanket and she wrapped it around herself, glad to be covered from whatever prying eyes they would run into on their way to the showers.

To her surprise, Negan took her back to his bedroom and led her into the bathroom, which was just as nice as the bedroom. Did he have his wives clean the place? Because it was pretty damn spotless for a guy like him. Reaching into a drawer, he pulled out a disposable razor and held it up.

“Don’t be getting any fucking ideas in here, princess. I’d hate for Lucille to have to give you a reminder on how to behave yourself.” Negan handed it over and left the room, closing the door behind him.

~

Emerson took her time in the shower. The only soap to speak of was some men’s body wash, but that was more than okay with her. She had smelled the scent clinging to Negan under the more prominent smells of sweat and sun, and it hadn’t been a bad thing. Using the rag that was in there, Emerson washed herself until her skin felt sore, as if she could wash away the events of the last day or so. The razor scraped away the out of control hair on her legs and underarms, but she didn’t bother to do any trimming of her nether regions. It wasn’t like anyone was going to care, especially not her.

When she finished, her stomach had taken on the empty ache of hunger, and she stepped out and dried off, wringing the water from her now clean hair. The wet towel wrapped around her and she peeked out of the door to see if there were clothes waiting.

Negan was sprawled in the middle of his bed, his long frame taking up a good portion of what she recognized to be a king size. His hands were folded behind his head, and his face was relaxed. Emerson didn’t know if he was sleeping, but she did take a minute to just be a woman and enjoy the sight of him. The grey t-shirt was riding up a bit and she spotted his hip bones poking over the waistband of his cargo pants, tan skin and a slight bit of salt-and pepper hair peeking out from under the hem of his shirt.

He was in his forties, mid to late if Emerson were to guess, but he was as sexy to her as any man her own age. Her tongue flicked over her lips, but she quickly pulled her thoughts under control as he spoke.

“See something you like, sweetheart?” Negan hadn’t moved or even opened his eyes, but somehow, he had known that she was staring.

“Just your clothes. Since I don’t have any, I was feeling a bit jealous.” Emerson quipped, dragging her eyes away from him and instead focusing on a dying plant across the room.

That gravelly chuckle sounded again and he pushed up, rolling off the bed and back onto his feet. Negan looked tired but he was doing a hell of a job covering it up. “Then you’ll be thanking me in a minute.” Reaching for some gray fabric, he lifted it and she looked it over.

It was a grey sweatshirt, one that was certainly not new. It was stained with God knows what, and marked with what appeared to be spray paint. Emerson recognized it as the uniform she’d seen the ‘prisoners’ wearing and it made her sigh softly. “I think I prefer to be naked.” She muttered under her breath.”

“That can be arranged.” Negan replied, yanking the shirt out her reach as she stepped forward to grab it. “Say the magic words.”

Again, Emerson sighed but let the words slip from her mouth. “Thank you, Negan.”

Once he had handed both the shirt and the pants over, Emerson dressed in record time, as he’d given her no underclothes to speak of. The clothes were too big, so she shoved the sleeves up, doing the same with the pants since the had cuffs. They were uncomfortable, and with the heat outdoors, she knew she wasn’t be smelling fresh for long.

Negan slid past her, inhaling as he went. “Mm, I smell good on you.” Emerson rolled her eyes and turned to follow, but he sat down on the couch and pointed to the tray of food. “Come on, now. Gotta keep you fuckin’ fed. Can’t have my new worker starving on the first day.”

Emerson sat down and they ate quietly, both too focused on the food to talk. She had no plans to work for him, even if it meant being locked back in that tiny room. The food was simple but since she’d pretty much been eating from cans for six years, hot food was a nice change of pace.

It was gone too quickly and she leaned back against the couch with a happy sigh. She was clean and her stomach was full, and those two things made the world seem okay in this moment. But that ended when Negan spoke.

“I have a work detail I’m putting you on.” He said, licking the last remnants of beer from his lips and looking over at her.

Emerson sighed softly and opened her eyes, making sure to look directly into his. “No.” She knew just how dangerous that word was to say to him, but she wasn’t going to just work for him. Negan was used of getting what he wanted, and she wasn’t giving him that satisfaction.

Negan let out a sigh of his own, though it had the hint of an annoyed growl behind it. “My patience with you is wearing pretty fucking thin now, Emerson.” He wiped his hands on his pants and leaned back into the sounds, knees spread open, arms on the back. “I let you shower, gave you clothes, and even fed you.”

Emerson took note of his position and a tiny part of her wanted to straddle him and run her hands along his chest, feeling the muscles and skin under the shirt. _Fuck. Please be less attractive._ “And I’m still saying no.”

Negan stood and rolled his shoulders, moving around the coffee table and yanking her up in one easy motion. As they headed for the door, he turned her, slamming her back into the door so they were face to face. Well, face to chest. Emerson’s breath caught at how close he was and how his hands kept her pinned to the door without even touching. His gaze was heated now, though annoyance was still visible in his ever stormy eyes, and it made her swallow.

All of her pain was simply forgotten as he leaned in, nose barely brushing her own. “Do you have any idea how fucking crazy you make me?” His voice had dropped into a low, gravelly tone that sent a shiver of need down Emerson’s spine. “I can’t decide if I want to fuck you or kill you.”

Emerson was having a difficult time forming thoughts now, and made no move to stop him as his lips brushed her own in a slow, teasing manner. “The things I could make you feel.” He murmured, tongue poking out to trace the dip in her chin. One of his hands had left the door and had hold of her hip, his thumb kneading the sensitive spot in the dip of her hipbone. “Just say yes, sweetheart. Lemme fuckin’ have you…”

The battle between Emerson’s head and heart were making her crazy and her own hands reached for him, slipping under his shirt to run over his torso as her lips sought out his own and they kissed, hard and heavy. With every ounce of inner strength she could muster, Emerson pushed him away from her, their lips slipping apart. He looked faintly surprised and she had to swallow before she spoke.

“My answer is still no.” Her voice was breathless and wrecked, just from having kissed him, and Emerson was panting as she awaited his response.

He gave a nod and stepped back, breaking into a laugh. Negan’s hand reached down to adjust the front of his pants and his lips slid back into that disconcerting smile. “Have it your way.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may hate me after this chapter. It does insinuate that Negan has manipulated Rick into sex at more than one point, but I couldn't help myself. So, yeah. Oops.
> 
> Also, THANK YOU! I never expected over 300 hits! Very thankful for everyone that has read this! Please leave a comment and let me know how I'm doing. I love feedback!
> 
> <3, Shane.

After he’d thrown her back into the tiny room, taken her clothes, and turned on the music again, Negan found himself back in his room. He cursed and threw the empty beer bottle against the wall, the sound of shattering glass only comforting him a little. Emerson was as manipulative as he was, and it was throwing him for a loop of sorts. 

Negan tugged gently at his hair at the memory of their lips together and her hands on his skin. He was aroused and hard as hell in his pants, but the thought of going to fuck one of his wives just didn’t appeal to him. Negan had his eyes on Emerson, and nothing was going to satisfy him but her. Knowing he needed to take care of his not so little problem, he headed to take a shower.

Once done, he rounded up his men and headed off to Alexandria to have himself some fun with Rick. Maybe that would take his mind off the beautiful woman that was currently naked in one of his buildings, doing her best to stay sane.

Rick opened the gate as their trucks pulled in and Negan hopped out, letting Lucille rest on his shoulder. “ _You_ are leaning, _Rick.”_ His voice was cheery and he rocked back on his heels before approaching the man he’d broken in a matter of hours. Mm, just seeing the man put a smile on his face.

“You were just here three days ago…” Rick said quietly, resting his hands on his trim hips as Negan entered his personal space. “We haven’t found much since then.”

Negan lifted Rick’s face with a gloved finger under his chin and gave the other man a wink. “You know I can’t go very long without seeing _you,_ Rick.” Slipping his free arm over the smaller man’s shoulders, he steered him toward the house where Rick lived and then motioned around with his bat. “Have at ‘er, men. See what you can find.”

Rick was tense under the arm but Negan didn’t care. He’d relax soon enough, and it was always Negan’s pleasure to make him do so. “How’s the kiddos?”

“They’re fine.”

“Good. I do like seeing the little future serial killer in good health.” Negan knew that Rick hated when he referred to Carl like that. It was intentional dig that he used as often as possible. What bothered Rick most about it was the thought that Carl would turn out to be as bad if Negan, if that were possible. He’d never met anyone like Negan.

Rick didn’t answer as they ascended the stairs and entered through the front door of the house. “How come you’re not out there workin’ for me, hm? Taking it easy? Getting lazy on me?”

“No. But we take shifts. It keeps everybody from getting too tired and worn out.”

Negan leaned against the kitchen counter and tilted his head, looking the nervous man over. It was incredibly satisfying to see just how Rick seemed to fall apart in front of him, and even under him when that had happened a time of two. “Funny, because I don’t remember saying I cared if anyone gets too fuckin’ tired. Seems like an excuse to me.”

“No, Negan-“ Rick started, but Negan cut him off by raising a finger.

Laying Lucille down on the shiny counter, Negan slowly sauntered toward Rick who was watching him with those watery blue eyes. The man always looked one step from a nervous breakdown, and Negan grinned at the thought. _Too fucking easy there, Rick._ “I’m in no mood for excuses, hm? It’s been a shit day so far and I have no patience for your bullshit.” 

Rick gave a nervous nod but kept his mouth shut. “Mm, you really are learning.” Negan said, leaning down and tugging on Rick’s with his teeth. He didn’t do rape, but Rick had been so easy to manipulate, so _willing_ to keep his people safe, that getting a yes from him had been as easy as pie. “You know I love when you behave for me.”

“I know.” Rick breathed out, hands fidgeting at his sides.

“You can touch, you know.” Negan said before sliding a hand around Rick’s waist to press the man against him with a hand in his lower back. Their lips met in a kiss this time, Negan easily dominating the pliant mouth under his own, and he felt hands now resting on his hips. “I think you like this more than you care to admit, Rick. Like a man getting you under fucking control.” 

Rick didn't say anything and Negan laughed, again tugging at the bottom lip before stepping away. Stepping to the window, Negan was almost disappointed to see his men were already done, not having found much to take back. “Short haul, today. I suggest you step up the pace and get rid of the fuckin’ shifts. I expect better.” He grinned and grabbed his bat, twirling it in his hand. “Don't want Lucille to get all thirsty now.”

Rick sighed softly and gave a slow nod. “I’ll get it done, Negan…” 

Negan grinned and blew Rick a kiss. “Good to hear.”


	5. Chapter 5

_“Is this the real life? Is this just fantasy? Caught in a landslide, no escape from reality.”_

The words were echoing through Emerson’s mind as the song played again and again and _again_. Her hands were pressed tightly over her ears as she drifted in and out of an exhausted slumber. A sheen of sweat had covered her skin, but she was cold at the same time, her nakedness increasing the vulnerability of her situation. Sleep was hard to hold onto with the noise, and her mind was just _hurting_ under the strain of it all.

Wet, sticky trails of tears streaked her cheeks, though she hadn’t remembered crying for a while. All track of time was gone, and she had long since forgotten how many times the song had repeated itself. It could have been days, hours, or mere minutes when it finally stopped, the door cracking open.

A sob slipped from Emerson’s lips as she curled away from whoever had opened the door, ears still ringing. She hoped it wasn’t Negan because she was in no shape to deal with the whiplash of his moods.

“S’okay. Just me.” A soft, hoarse voice said quietly. It wasn’t one she’d heard before, Emerson was sure of that.

Managing to open her eyes, she finally focused in on a man crouched in the doorway, greasy hair hanging in his face. He too was wearing the outfit she’d had on earlier. Another prisoner, maybe. “H-how long have I been here?” Emerson managed to say, voice wrecked from sobbing and screaming to be let free.

“About two days altogether.” He said, holding out half of a cheese sandwich that looked hard and unappetizing. “I’m Daryl.” Daryl was keeping his voice low and barely audible as if he was afraid of being caught talking to Negan’s latest obsession.

Emerson pushed into a sitting position and took the sandwich, taking a bite gratefully. “Emerson.” The food was every bit as bad as it had looked, but it was nourishment and she needed to stay strong if she could.

Daryl nodded a bit and glanced over his shoulder. “They did this to me too. Negan is a nasty son-of-a-bitch.”

Emerson swallowed her bite of the dry sandwich and it scraped down her raw throat, nearly making her choke. “Any way out?”

Daryl gave a slight shake of his head, hair parting to let her take a better look at his dirty, bruised face. “Nah. He has too many men.” He stood quickly, trying his best to offer her a small smile. “Try to stay alive…”

And then the door was shut again, music resuming where it had left off. Emerson finished the sandwich, trying to gather her thoughts in the midst of the noise. She wasn’t a stupid person and knew that sensory deprivation was a _very_ effective way of breaking someone down, and she herself felt her strong exterior cracking after only two days.

“I’m Emerson. And I say no.” She mumbled to herself. “I’m Emerson and I say no.”

~

Emerson wasn’t sure when the door had opened again, but she had been vaguely aware of someone removing her from the room and wrapping her in a blanket. Voices, albeit it muffled, could be heard, and the prick of the IV needle was barely felt. A shiver wracked her body even as everything faded to black.

Dreams of home plagued her mind, and the sound of her name had her murmuring her mother’s name. “ _Emerson_.” The voice was rougher this time and she snapped awake with a ragged inhale, Negan’s face coming into view.

“Starting to worry me there, sweetheart.” He said, stroking her cheek with calloused fingers. The touch was gentle and something along the lines of a caress. “Wasn’t sure you were gonna wake up.” The grin tugged at his wide lips, eyes twinkling slightly in pride that he’d managed to put her in this state already.

_“I’m just a poor boy, nobody loves me. Just a poor boy from a poor family. Spare him his life from this monstrosity.”_

Emerson could still hear the music though she knew the room was completely silent. She knew she wanted to answer Negan, tell him that she hated him. Maybe even lash out and knock the smile from his pretty face. But her body and mouth betrayed her, doing nothing to push him away or talk back.

“You’ve been sleeping in here for twelve hours or so.” Negan gently lifted her to sit up, wrapping an arm around her shoulders to support her. “Getting fuckin’ lazy there, sweetheart.” That inhaled chuckle that he so often did reached her ears, and she pushed away from him, not wanting to be touched.

“I’m Emerson. And my answer is no.” Emerson finally managed to say, voice hoarse and scratchy.

“Whoa, there. I haven’t asked you anything yet. You and I are just having a pleasant conversation.” He stood and poured her a glass of water, holding it out to her.

With a shaky hand, Emerson grabbed it and put it to her lips, drinking as if she would never be able to again. The cool water brought relief as it slid down her throat and she sighed once the glass had been sufficiently drained. “I know what you want. I know what you’re doing to me.”

“Well you’d have to be pretty fucking dumb _not_ to know, so that doesn’t surprise me.” Negan leaned against the counter and looked her over. “Puttin’ up such a fight is only gonna make it worse, sweetheart. I’m offering you a damn good deal, here.” 

“I want freedom.”

Negan lifted a brow, crossing his strong arms over his chest. “Freedom to do _what?_ Never stay in one place? Be the fucking Lone Ranger?”

Emerson blinked at his words. As much as she hated to admit it, the man did have a point. Being on your own was not easy. She’d spent countless nights curled in a ball to stay warm. There were periods she never spoke a word, and sometimes it went on for months. The isolation was so intense that Emerson was surprised that she wasn’t completely out of her mind already. Close run-ins with men who wanted to do her harm had taken their toll, and it was to the point she jumped at nearly every noise, paranoid of being taken advantage of and being helpless to do anything.

Negan’s eyes bored into her own, and it was almost as if he was seeing every thought that was going through her head at his question. And maybe he _did_. “You don’t even know yourself.” He paced a bit, and Emerson kept her eyes down and on his boots. He was right again. “I’m offering you the world here, sweetheart. No one is gonna hurt you here. Hell, I’d kill ‘em myself.” 

“The only one hurting me is _you._ ” Emerson answered quietly, rubbing her hands over her face. The tears were back now, and she wanted to hide, be alone. Negan was right, but she didn’t want him to be. _He_ was the bad guy, here. _He_ was the one putting her in pain. Causing other people pain. Staying here was a terrible idea, but she couldn’t help but crave the presence of other people again.

Negan came to a stop in front of her but she couldn’t look up at him. He was winning the battle that he’d thrust her into, and they both knew it. “Just say yes, Emerson. Let me show you how good things can be here.” 

Emerson choked back a sob, fingers itching to reach out for him and pull him close so she could cry in his arms. Negan had a strong presence and it was off-putting yet something she was drawn to. “No.” The word was barely audible through the sounds of her crying, but Negan had heard it nonetheless.

“Too fucking stubborn for your own damn good.” He snapped, dragging her toward the door, his grip tight and bruising. 

Emerson’s sobs got louder as he roughly shoved her back into the dark, smelly space and she slid to the ground. “No! Please!” Her chest was heaving and the force of her sobs had spittle and snot dripped from her face. “No!”

But the door slammed shut again, leaving her alone in the blackness, surround by nothing but her own cries and the sounds of Queen.

~

As the hours passed, Emerson felt herself breaking apart. A bright lightbulb in the corner of the ceiling was now flashing at random intervals, adding to her penetrating discomfort. She was barely aware of anything, but she knew that it was reaching a point that she wouldn’t be able to come back from. Crawling toward the door, her body still weak and shaky, she pounded her fists against it.

“Y-Yes!” Emerson was trying to yell but her voice wasn’t cooperating, and there was no way to be heard over the music. But she kept at it, knocking and pounding at the door until her knuckles were split and bleeding. Every hit left streaks on the door, but she barely even noticed in her desperation to get out. 

How long Emerson kept it up, she didn’t know, and when the door opened she drug herself from the small room. “Yes..yes..yes..”


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a small Negan chapter. Such a tease. Thanks for all the kudos!

Negan dropped to his knees at the sight of her and pulled the shaking woman into his arms. Emerson pressed as close as she could, bloody hands fisting in his pristine white t-shirt. “It’s over now. It’s all over.” He said quietly, arms holding her body tightly against his own as she sought his comfort. She was naked and shaking, her hands having left blood on her own body from trying to get out and get his attention. Anyone’s attention.

Standing with her securely wrapped in his arms, he ambled back to his private quarters, ignoring the looks of his wives and the others who caught sight of the woman he was holding. She was just another of his victims, they thought, another woman being coerced into doing whatever Negan wanted her to. And they wouldn't be wrong.

Once there, he set her in the corner of the bathroom while he ran a warm bath for her, Emerson exhausted and not saying a word. When the tub was filled to his liking, Negan lifted the naked, still shaking woman, and gently put her in the water, leaning her carefully against the back. A soft sigh of relief escaped her lips and he settled on his knees next to the tub.

"Too fucking old to be on my knees for you, sweetheart.” Negan said gently as his hands soaked a rag in the warm water. Grabbing his own soap, he put a good amount of the rag and started at her shoulders, taking his time and washing her body. Emerson was too tired or too broken to fight back, and she lay calmly as he worked his way down. She released another small sigh as the texture of the cloth rubbed over her nipples and a faint grin tugged at his lips as one at a time they hardened under his touch.

She was very similarly affected as the rag brushed over her most sensitive area. Once Negan had finished washing both Emerson’s body and her hair, his fingers drifted back down over the hard nubs of her nipples, rolling them experimentally between two fingers. At the noise she made for him, Negan's eyes darkened a bit and he grinned.

“That's it, sweetheart. Just relax and let me make you feel good.” He murmured, his fingers slipping along the planes of her stomach and hips, before finally sliding one through the soft pubic hair and through her folds. A tired but eager moan slipped from her lips as his fingers found her clit, massaging gently to tease. Emerson was being responsive under his ministrations, and soon he slid a long, talented finger inside of her. Her hips lifted a bit in the water and he took this as a good sign. When two fingers had comfortably made their way inside, he crooked them, soon finding the spot that drew a moan from Emerson’s throat.

"Mm, you sound so good right now.” Knowing her body was tired and that was half out of it, he worked quickly, enjoying every sound she made, and the jerk of her hips as she tried to push him deeper. Within minutes he could tell she was close, and he leaned down to brush his lips across hers.

"Lemme hear you."


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this took so long! The holidays were insane for us this year! Hope everyone has a great beginning of the year! Thanks for sticking with me.

Emerson’s hips lifted and jerked as her orgasm swept through her. It had been a long time and she rode the high for every second that it lasted, the aches of her body dulling from the endorphin rush. “Negan.” His name left her mouth and she didn't even bother to try and stop it.

When he'd cleaned and rinsed her, Negan lifted her from the bath and made quick work of drying her off. The soft cotton of one of his shirts enveloped her body and soon she was tucked warmly between the sheets of his bed. _So soft. So fucking soft. Isn't this supposed to be the apocalypse? Damn…_

Without much prompting by Negan, Emerson was soon asleep, the lingering effects of her climax lulling her into a comfortable sleep.

 

When Emerson awoke, everything from the last day or so was hazy, as if she'd been drugged or was remembering a fading dream. A warm body was in the bed, and though they weren't touching, she could feel the heat radiating to her side of the bed. Negan. She did remember the bath, the fingering, and the bed. That much was clear, and it was also the part she would love to forget. Annoyed, Emerson reached out and smack out, her hand landing against the warm skin of his bicep. Her raw knuckles complained at her movement, but she ignored it.

“Ow. What the fuck?” Negan groused, voice rough from sleep.

“Yeah, Negan. What the fuck?”

He shuffled and pushed up on an elbow, glaring down at her. The last remnants of sleep were fading from his eyes and they searched her face for some answers. “First of all, good fucking morning to you too. Second, did you learn nothing? Show some fucking respect. And third, if you hit me again you will lose your hand.”

“You raped me.” Emerson said, knitting her brow together.

“I most certainly did _not_.” Negan said, sitting up and running fingers through his hair.

“You did. I never consented to you..getting me off.” Emerson's voice was quiet, timid now at his threats. She hadn't forgot her time in the small room and was not eager to repeat it. Negan terrified her.

He cocked a brow and flashed a grin. “ _Emerson._ You wanted that. You were fucking moaning while I was trying to wash you off.”

“I was rather out of it.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“Yes.” Her answer was barely a whisper but he chuckled softly and leaned over her.

“And did you want it? Did you wanna see how _good_ I could make you feel? How fucking _talented_ I am?”

The way he was posing questions made it hard to answer. She _did_ want to see how good he was and how damn good he could make her feel. But he was confusing her now. Had she wanted it? Had she somehow asked for it without realizing? “Y-yes.”

“See, sweetheart? I would never rape anyone. Especially you.” Negan gave her a quick kiss and rolled out of bed. “The doctor will be coming up to treat you hands and make sure you drink enough. Be nice to him.”

Emerson sat quietly as the man dressed, grabbed Lucille, and then disappeared from the room. Everything still hurt and silent tears fell from her eyes as she curled her body around a pillow. This wasn't what she wanted. Not at all.

~

The close of the day found Emerson in the very same spot. It wasn’t as if she had anything else to be doing, and no one had stopped her. Her time was spent sleeping or thinking, planning on ways to get free of the Saviors and their compound. Now that Emerson had agreed to work for him, she hoped that it would be outdoors so she could learn the lay of the land.

Footsteps were heard outside the door, and Emerson tucked her face against a pillow. The door opened and Negan sauntered in, setting his bat next to the bed. “Damn, sweetheart. Have you even gotten up today? Fuckin’ lazy.” The man kicked off his boot and tossed his jacket onto the couch, the bed dipping under his weight as he lay down.

She hated having him so close to her after what had happened. But she couldn’t deny that he smelled good, strong. When he lifted his arm, Emerson sighed softly and moved over, curving her body against his own as his arm settled around her. “Gonna marry me now, sweetheart?”

Emerson had figured the topic would come up sooner or later, and she was ready for this. “I want to work for points.”

He stilled, fingers slowing to a stop from where they’d been tracing along her side. “Oh?”

“Yes.”

“Do you remember the part of that conversation when I said that you’ll wish you were dead? It wasn’t a fucking joke. Marrying me is the smarter option here, Emerson.” Negan said firmly.

“I want to work. I’ll think about the marriage thing.” Emerson’s own voice was surprisingly firm despite fear of retribution for crossing him.

“Then I suggest you enjoy your last night in my quarters.” He rolled from the mattress and motioned her toward the bathroom. “Shower?”

While it sounded like a question, like she had a choice, Emerson wasn’t sure that it was. “Can I say no?”

“Can you?” Negan replied, tilting his head.

 _Not risking it…_ Emerson too slid off the bed and walked into the bathroom, letting him close the door and turn on the water.

Negan started undressing, and though Emerson wanted to not enjoy the sight, she was only human. Under the t-shirt, his chest and stomach were tan and firm, covered by a good amount of dark hair. Negan had no shortage of tattoos and her eyes traced over them, wondering what he had been like before all of this. His pants were next, leaving him in a pair of black boxers. And when those came off, she did look away. He was the enemy, the man that was probably about to fuck her and make her think it had been her idea. No way was she giving him the satisfaction of drooling over his naked form.

Stepping under the hot water, Emerson sighed softly as it beat down on her body. It was enough to make her forget her troubles, until Negan stepped in behind her, his hands brushing over her shoulders. As they moved to her hips, she turned at his prompting, and his lips pressed to hers.

As before, the kiss was hot and needy, her lips and tongue responding on instinct. He was gorgeous and sexy and _there_ and resisting was a lot easier said than done when in the shower naked with him. His hands were all over her, and Emerson’s were moving over his naked chest, rivulets of water soaking them both.

When her back pressed to the wall and her legs wrapped around him, she didn’t bother protesting and he slid into her, dragging a moan from her kiss-swollen lips. The pace was far from slow and easy, but by the time her feet hit the floor again, the water had run cold.

“Fuck.” She murmured, stepping out on shaky legs and grabbing a towel. It had been everything she had thought it would be and more. He was not lacking in the talent department.

“My thoughts exactly, sweetheart. You’re pretty damn perfect.” His lips brushed her again as he dried off, and they both walked into his bedroom and collapsed into bed together.

“I still hate you.”

“I’d expect nothing less.” He said with a low chuckle.

 

The next morning came with a rude awakening. Negan gave her a hard shove and the sleeping Emerson slid off the bed and onto the floor with a thud. She awoke upon impact and grunted in pain. “Ow, asshole.”

“Watch it.” Negan growled as she pushed up from the floor and stood to face him. The sweats she had worn for a short time as a prisoner were thrown in her face as he lifted his bat. “You have about ten seconds so I suggest you hurry.”

His personality had shifted once again, and Emerson figured that this was the way it would be as long as she chose to work for him. Quickly putting on the clothing, Emerson followed Negan out to where everyone ate breakfast together. Her ‘uniform’ matched everyone else and she grabbed some food before finding a place to sit.

“You’re on walker duty in ten.” Negan growled in her ear as he passed and disappeared out the door.

Emerson sighed and ate quietly, looking around at everyone here. None of them, other than the guards, looked happy. They were dirty and most of the reeked of body odor, and she would’ve given anything to never see any of them again. When her eyes landed on Daryl, she sat up a bit straighter and hurried up to him once the meal was over.

“What’s walker duty?”

Daryl peered at her through his hair and he gave her a bit of a smile once he realized who she was. “Remember the walkers on the spikes when you came here?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s walker duty. Keepin’ ‘em in line and such. I’m there today too so stick with me. We’re not allowed to talk while workin’.”

Emerson nodded. “Okay.”

But once they were outside and by the spikes, she couldn’t resist. Keeping her voice low, and making sure her mouth was barely moving, Emerson spoke. “How long you been here?”

When he responded a few moments later, she caught the flash of sadness and anger on his dirty face. “Too long.”

Emerson nodded at this. Even in her short time here, it had been too long. And each day here felt like an eternity. With a sigh, she leaned back against the fence. But the gun butt to her kidney put her on her knees, gasping for breath, in mere seconds.

“Fuck!” She managed hoarsely one hand reaching back to press over the spot she’d been hit. “Use your fucking words next time!” How was she to know the rules if no one told her?

“Shut your mouth and get back to work.” One of the men yelled back at her. “Don’t make me come over there.”

Emerson pushed slowly to her feet and stood as straight as she could with the pain in her side. “I could kick your ass.” She muttered in annoyance, despite having already suffered enough here. All these men threatening her was getting to be a little much, and the only one that scared her was Negan. The rest were just pathetic.

The one known as Dwight laughed as the one who’d spoken to her approached, fire in his eyes. “Who do you think you’re talking to, bitch? You oughta watch that pretty mouth of yours.”

Emerson rolled her eyes and turned back to Daryl who was giving her a very firm look. His hair swung gently as he gave a subtle shake of his head. _I know, I know. I need to shut up._

When her arm was grabbed, Emerson spun and planted her fist in the man’s face, hissing at the pain her fingers felt as his nose broke under the force. The man grunted and stumbled back a step, but he recovered faster than she expected and threw a punch of his own, catching her in the jaw. A second followed, again putting her on the ground. She let out a pained yell as his heavy boot connected with the same spot his gun had, but it was quickly quieted with a second kick that stole her breath away.

“What the _fuck_ is going on over here?” Emerson had never been so glad to hear Negan’s voice, because the blows ceased, leaving her breathless and curled up on the ground.

“She was mouthin’ off, boss. Just teaching her a little respect.”

“Well, Simon, looks to me like she stopped talking. So I think she gets it.” A hand reached down and wrapped around her arm, yanking her up. “Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

Emerson glared across at Simon as Negan pulled her hurting body roughly against his side. But she said nothing.

“I asked you a question.” His voice tightened, fingers pushing into the already bruising side.

“Yes!”

“Good girl.” Negan laughed happily and started back toward the compound, guiding her along with him. “Told you this wouldn’t be a nice experience.”

“I’m just fine.” Emerson said quietly, spitting blood to the side.

“Care to tell me what happened?”

“No one told me what to do. Or what not to do. Instead, he just hit me with his gun. I told him to you use some damn words next time.”

Negan glanced down at her and laughed yet again. “I’ll bet you did. Lucky for you that I found you when I did.”

“Yeah…lucky.” Emerson was _anything_ but lucky when Negan was around.


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is sad and heartbreaking. :'( I nearly cried writing it in places, trying to feel the way she would gave felt was painful. Enjoy!

The days continued passing slowly for Emerson, few of them good. She tended to talk back, and had been on the receiving end of more than a few beatings. Usually it was one of Negan’s grunts, but there were days she pissed him off too, earning a few well-placed punches. Other days he was sweet as pie, taking her into his bed and having his way with her, since her protests had grown few and far between.

  
The only good thing in her life was her relationship with Daryl. The two had gotten close and found a lot of similarities, and had formed a friendship amidst all the conflict and pain. Seeing him was a small reprieve from her own thoughts, and she knew it to be the same way for him. But they had also become each other’s biggest weakness and Negan was discovering that.

  
“So, Alexandria. Those are your people, right? Where Negan took you from?” Emerson asked, after swallowing a lump of dry bread and spooning up some stew.

  
“Uh-huh.” Daryl responded, focused hungrily on his own food. This was the first meal they’d had all day, and both were feeling it.

The run to Alexandria had taken a lot longer than expected because of some trouble, and they’d gotten back right before sunset.

  
The only person Emerson knew by name was the leader of Alexandria, a man named Rick. She could tell from the way he walked and the way he carried himself that he used to be a cop. But now, after Negan had broken him down until he’d been on his knees begging, Rick’s eyes were simply full of pain, and it was obvious he carried the weight of the world.

  
“They seem nice…”

  
“The best.” Daryl missed Alexandria more than he cared to admit to anyone, missed Rick. Every time that Negan forced him to go pick up things there, which was on every single run, Daryl’s heart broke a little more at not being able to stay with the people he called his family. With the man he called his brother. Yet another tactic used by Negan.

  
But Emerson and Daryl were far from the kind of people who simply lied down and took much abuse. They both fought against Negan in their own small ways, determined that he would never completely win his battle to break them. And Negan didn’t seem to mind this. He enjoyed the challenge of getting into their heads and using Daryl for kickboxing practice.

  
But one day, something changed. Negan had exited his building, rage written into every feature of his face, and visible in the way he gripped Lucille. Approaching the garden where Emerson was currently working on her knees, he wrapped a gloved hand in her hair and drug her along the ground and out of the garden before letting go.

  
Emerson yelped and flailed, trying desperately to her feet, something she did carefully once he’d let go of her. He was very upset about something, so Emerson chose her words carefully.  
“Have I done something wrong, Negan?”

  
His eyes locked on hers, black and full of the same rage that was on his face. “Have you done something wrong? Have you fucking done something wrong!? You have the nerve to stand there and ask me that?”

  
Whatever he was mad about was something to do with her, that much she knew now, but what was still the lingering question. Emerson furrowed her brows and gave him a confused look, but that only earned her a slap hard enough to split her lip open.

  
“You a fucking piece of work, you know that?” He yelled in her face. “I took you in. Shared my shit, and even my fucking bed with you, and this is how you say thank you?”

  
“If you just tell me-“ Emerson tried, but another slap had her on her knees and cradling a sore jaw.

  
“I should’ve known. Pretty bitch like you isn’t satisfied with one dick, huh? Gotta go and beg for it with my men too.”

  
Now she really was confused. The only sex of any kind she’d had in a very long time was with Negan, and even that hadn’t been her choice. “I didn’t!”

  
His hand found her hair once again and he leaned down, yanking her head back at a painful angle. “Did he taste good? Hm? Fucking that beautiful mouth of yours? Was he as good as I was for you?”

  
“Negan, I swear to you. I haven’t done anything like that with anyone but you!” He was hurting her and Emerson’s hand and gone up to grip his arm. “Please, I swear.”

  
Negan looked away and across the compound, yelling at one of his men. “Being me Daryl.”

  
Daryl? No. Why did he want Daryl? Emerson had done nothing worthy of punishment. “Negan, please! I never sucked anyone’s dick, I promise!” She said, eyes tearing up and Daryl came into view and was forced to his knees.

  
Negan let go of her and slowly circled them both, Lucille restless against his shoulder. A smile tugged at his lips for a moment as he studied their faces. “It hasn’t escaped my notice that you two have gotten pretty fucking close lately. What about Daryl? You been fucking him too, Emerson? Letting him get a taste of that tight fucking pussy of yours?”

  
Silent tears ran down Emerson’s cheek now. The humiliation of her situation, and such things being discussed in front of Daryl, not to mention the looming punishment…it was all too much. “No. Negan, it’s just you. I’ve only had you, Negan.”

  
The tall, leather clad crazy man looked down at her with a fake expression of sympathy. “Aw, sweetheart. Don’t cry. I’ve told you my rules more than once. Cheating isn’t allowed.”

  
“I haven’t cheated! And I’m not your wife! Please, let him go.”

  
“I think it’s about time that I curb that attitude, sweetheart. You are just not a damn rule follower.”

  
The sound of a bat cracking against a skull resounded in her ears, warm spray splattering across her face as a body fell into her. Everything seemed to happen in slow motion as she looked to see Daryl Dixon’s body slumping into her, blood pouring from his injured head. The scream that ripped from her chest wasn’t audible to her as her eyes took in the bloody bat being waved in her face.

  
“Daryl!” She yelled, cradling his body against her chest. He was still conscious and she helped his struggling form back into an upright position.

  
Locking his eyes on hers, one completely bloodshot from the force of the hit, Daryl spoke a few raspy words. “My k-kinda crazy…”  
A sob escaped her at the words and she reached out to touch his face. Daryl had told her that she was his kind of crazy only days into their newfound friendship, and it had become their little thing. To hear him say those words, and knowing they were probably his last, broke her heart.

  
Before her fingers reached his cheek, another blow had thrown him forward, this one to the back of his head. Emerson screamed again, sobbing as Negan landed blow after blow until Daryl’s head was nothing more than a pile of thick, red goo. When he finally stopped, Emerson crawled the short distance to Daryl, shaky hands reaching out for his body and wrapping in his sweatshirt.  
“Daryl, no. So sorry, Daryl. Please. No.” Each word came out a broken whisper, Emerson unable to hold back to waves of grief that smashed into her. Tears, snot, and spit mixed on her face but she didn’t care. Instead she clung to the lifeless body of her best friend, wishing by some miracle that this was a dream she’d wake up from.

  
Hands grabbed at her, and she fought against them, screaming out Daryl’s name as she was drug away from him and taken inside. Emerson’s body shook hard, the tears still falling as she was stripped and place into a warm shower. Curling up in the back of the bathtub, Emerson lay there, letting the hot water beat down on her. It ran red as it left her body, the last of what remained of Daryl running down the drain and disappearing.

 

  
Emerson had no idea how long she lay there, and was barely aware of being pulled out, dried, and placed on her knees on soft carpet. “Look at me.” A voice, one that barely broke through to where she had retreated into her mind. “Emerson!”

  
Blinking almost lethargically, Emerson tipped her head back to look up into Negan’s face. He stared down at her, eyes soft again. “Have you learned your lesson?” She merely nodded slowly, hardly registering his words. “Will you ever cheat on me again?”

  
She blinked again, lost in the silence for a few moments. A faint shake of her head made him smile. “Good girl. You’re all mine, sweetheart. You know how much you love being with me.”

  
He gently lifted her to his feet and tugged her carefully against his chest, and she went without resistance or argument. Pictures of the mangled Daryl flashed through her mind but there were no tears left to cry. No fight left inside of her.

  
Negan's POV

Emerson spent the next few days working numbly at whatever job she was assigned, never speaking a word to anyone unless forced too. Everyone took notice of the woman who’d once been snarky and had attitude, but was now a broken shell of a person.

She hadn't eaten since Daryl had died, couldn't. Anytime she was around blood or the walkers, she would dry heave, hands shaking as images of Daryl plagued her.

  
Even Negan had noticed this, and it wasn't what he had expected. He had broken her far beyond what he had planned to, and it had was definitely backfiring on him now.

After several days of observing her, he once again made his room Emerson's home, having the doctor care for her as best he could. Every night he held her ever thinning body against his own, rubbing her back and speaking softly.

  
She did what she was told, was pliant under his touches, and he hated it. Gone was the fire in her eyes that had once attracted him to her. The fierce independence that he had enjoyed, but also been irritated by.

A thousand explanations of why he'd believed such a story from Simon, whom he'd killed slowly, would never make up for losing his temper and killing Daryl. Though it was bound to happen sooner or later, he had chosen the wrong moment to lash out.

  
Weeks passed, Emerson losing weight and becoming thin and gaunt. Her skin was pale, body shaky, and she was so weak she couldn't stay upright for long. She was wasting away in front of Negan now, and it burned him up inside.

  
But one morning, all on her own, Emerson rolled over in bed and blinked up into his face. “Hungry.” Was all she said, her voice so raspy that he barely understood her.

  
A few days of a liquid diet had her feeling better, and he walked in one evening to find her waiting in bed for him, spread naked over the sheets. Where once her torso had been flat and curved by muscles, her ribs were visible. Her gorgeous skin was still pale, but the look on her made him smile.

  
“Help me feel.”


	9. Chapter 9

Emerson had spent what felt like an eternity locked in a state of numbness. She knew it was her body’s way of coping with the grief of seeing Daryl beaten to death, but it was still a feeling that she didn’t particularly like. And Negan. Seeing him look at her with such pity had broken open a part of herself that she was sure he had killed along with Daryl. And even though it was Negan, she wanted to feel again. Because he was the only one that could make her.

He stared down at her for a long moment before slowly taking his jacket off and tossing the leather onto the couch. The bed dipped under his weight as he stretched out beside her, still not touching her like she’d asked.

“You’re a little fucking weak for that, sweetheart. I’d rather not break you.”

“Negan, _please_.” Emerson said quietly, reaching out and wrapping a hand in the black fabric of his t-shirt in an effort to get him closer to her. “You don’t have to fuck me, just…please.”

His eyes narrowed almost imperceptibly, but she knew that he couldn’t resist helping her out. This was the first time she’d asked for anything sexual before, and the glint in his eyes told her he was happy she’d finally come around. “Alright, alright. Just lie there and look pretty for me.”

Negan slid the t-shirt over his head and leaned into her, lips pressing to hers. His tongue slid over them, wetting them for her, and her mouth opened to him. Their tongues tangled slowly, as if this was their first time ever doing such a thing. A soft shiver curled along her spine as warm fingers traced over the skin of his stomach, one taking a slow path along every inch of rib that showed.

“Still the most beautiful fuckin’ thing I’ve ever laid eyes on.” Part of Negan got a sick rush that he’d made her into this. That her body was in this state because he’d broken her mind. “And _damn_ if I don’t enjoy you askin’ for me.” His lips moved down her jaw and sucked a mark into her pale neck, his stubble creating the right sort of burn along her jaw bone.

“Just shut the fuck up…” Emerson murmured, head tipping back to give him all the access he needed. Negan was empowering her, whether or not he knew it.

His tongue flicked over the curve of her throat.

_I wanna kill you…_

Fingers traced over pebbled nipples.

_I’m gonna kill you…_

Lips sucked them in, taking their time with each one.

_Maybe with a knife…_

Hands slid their way down her thighs, parting them.

_Slice your fucking skin off…_

A warm tongue meeting heated flesh.

_Gut you like the pig you are…_

Her body arched under an insistent mouth.

_Or maybe I’ll use Lucille…_

Her vision whiting as a climax hit.

_But I’m going to kill you…_

The next morning Emerson awoke, curled comfortably against Negan’s side. He looked peaceful in his slumber, as if he wasn’t the type of guy to hurt anyone. Her fingers traced along his bare chest, imagining it coming undone at the seams if she had a blade. Maybe it was being around him for so long, suffering at his hands, that had made her think the way she currently was. If he knew he’d grin, maybe laugh, happy that she was turning into a version of himself. But the one thing he wouldn’t be was scared.

And that pissed her off.

Rolling from the bed, she dressed and slowly made her way downstairs to get some breakfast her stomach rumbling hungrily. Every glanced to her, but no one seemed particularly interested that she was back in their midst. Grabbing some food, she sat alone, in a corner, keeping her eyes on her plate.

It was different now. Not having Daryl to see. Or talk to. Or be in same room with. There was an empty hole that made her feel so alone that his presence had once filled. The only good thing to ever come from this God-forsaken hell of a compound.

Eating until she couldn’t anymore, she made her way back upstairs to find him still asleep, lying on his back as he had been. Crawling slowly back into bed, Emerson shucked off her clothes and straddled his naked waist, leaning down and trailing kisses over his collarbone. He made a sleepy sound, but kept his eyes clothes despite the smile that was curving his lips.

Emerson’s eyes slid to Lucille who was sitting against his nightstand, close enough for her to grab. His eyes fluttered open and she grinned down at him, going in for a slow, drawn out kiss. When she pulled away, Emerson was breathless and Negan was smirking up at her, a heated gaze sweeping over her naked body.

“My turn to make you feel…” She murmured against the skin of his neck and he just nodded, fingers ghosting over her jutting hipbones before dropping back to curl in the sheets. He was relaxed under her, but he was also the smartest man she’d ever met, despite his charming madness. So Emerson needed to be perfect in her execution of the plan, or she would be the dying today.

Her tongue snaked out to trace one of his tattoos, hips grinding down to the growing arousal under her. Moments later he was inside of her, her movements slow and languid on top of him. His eyes were shut, hands on her thighs, the occasional moan slipping from his lips. Leaning into him, she dipped her head and sucked over his pulse point, leaving a deep bruise there. Her hand, which had been braced on the edge of the bed carefully reached out, the fingers wrapping around Lucille’s handle.

Her teeth captured his bottom lip and she bit gently before sucking it into her mouth, rolling her hips just right for him. Negan’s fingers dig into her thighs and she let out a moan. Everything after that happened so quickly that she wasn’t sure it was even real life. She sat up, whipping the bat roughly to his neck, barbed wire digging deep into the soft, bared skin.

Negan’s eyes shot open, wide and angry, and his powerful body flipped them, one hand wrapping around her wrist as if the pull the bat away. But she timed it right, using his own strength to tear the bat across the flesh of his throat. Emerson never even flinched as arterial blood sprayed over her face and chest, curling her legs under Negan and pushing him away and out of her. His body tumbled off the bed, hands clutching helplessly at the gushing of blood from his torn throat.

Rolling off the bed with Lucille in hand, she stood over him, watching as he gasped for breath, the rapid pumping of his heart only increasing his loss of blood. Negan’s eyes met hers, and she watched as the shock and surprise melted into pain and…arrogance. “I. Win.” His lips formed the words and she read them clearly, despite the lack of voice.

“No. _I. Win.”_ Hefting the bat, she brought it down onto his throat, speeding thing along. His hands were struck but now she was just angry. The bat landed hit after hit until finally the life drained from his eyes and his head had been severed from his body.

Emerson was panting hard now, tears streaming down her face. This had been for her. This had been for Daryl. Stumbling away from him, she rubbed a bloody hand over her face, smearing the blood and tears over her cheek.

_Clothes. Need clothes._

She moved to his closet and pulled one of his t-shirts over her head before finding an old pair of her jeans in a backpack in the floor of it. Stuffing the bag with some extras shirts, she took from his bathroom and his drawers whatever would fit, even finding a knife. Taking it, she knelt in the blood next to the now dead Negan and slid it in between his eyes, trying not to ruin his face too much. She had plans for him.

Not having any shoes, Emerson slid the pack on and picked up Lucille in one hand, Negan’s severed head in the other. As she made her way outside, anyone who saw her stopped and gaped in awe and fear at what she had just done. A guard willing gave her his gun, which she tucked into her bag.

Stepping out into the sun shine, she whistled, letting everyone know she was here. They turned and just _stopped_ whatever the hell they were doing.

“Your fearless leader is no more.” Emerson yelled, sauntering toward the gate. “I’m leaving now, as is everyone who wants to. But if you follow me, if you bother me or anyone at Alexandria, I will personally fuck you up with Lucille.” She swung the bat around, much like Negan had, and moved up to Dwight who was actually fucking _grinning_ at her.

“I want that crossbow and that vest.” Daryl had told her that they were once his, and she wanted to reclaim his property. It took a minute of two to slide the vest on, again put the backpack on, and swung the cross bow over her shoulder. “Now go get your fucking wife.” Emerson mutter before moving on and ripping the large Colt from another guard’s hip holster and shoving it into her jeans despite the side.

The gates were opened for her as she made her way into the trees, Lucille gripped tightly in one hand, and Negan’s head still swinging for the other.

She’d really fucking won.


	10. Epilogue

Emerson’s body was pouring sweat and she was shaking from exertion, but it was in sight now. The gates loomed and she could see several guards looking at her down their scopes. She did her best to appear non-threatening as she approached, but Negan’s head dangling from her hand didn’t exactly convey that message. 

She was quite tired from the twenty mile walk, and it had taken her almost all day. The sun would be setting soon and she needed to get to the gate before then. Today she was most thankful for luck and good memory, because it had been awhile since Daryl had told her the rough directions to Alexandria in case she were ever to escape Negan’s clutches without him. Someone must have noticed that was closing in with no plans to stop, because the gate swung open and Rick stepped out, followed by the younger one with the bandage over his eyes and some woman whose name she didn’t know. 

Once she was close enough, Emerson stopped and looked into Rick’s face, holding up the head for him to see. 

“I think we should talk.” 


End file.
